True Meaning of Obsession
by WhispersoftheSoul
Summary: When Danny's taken off a case because it went cold, the brother of the victim doesn't take it too well. What starts out as threats becomes a sick game of revenge, and Danny doesn't think he'll live to see then end. (Only mention of one episode, tha
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

This is not a slash, or a romance of any kind.

****

**Chapter 1**

"Hey, Danny. Heard about the case. Tough break."

Danny Messer looked up from the papers he was reading to find Aiden pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, returning to the folder containing everything on the case he and Stella had been working on for what felt like the past week. And if it had been that long, it only made the thought of not catching Vanessa Lamburg's killer that much worse.

"So, what are you doing with the case file? I thought it was over."

Danny sighed and closed the file, knowing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with it until he returned home to read it in quiet. "There's something here that we missed, we didn't look hard or far enough into. It has to be here somewhere. Something that'll prove Lance Jackson to Vanessa's murder."

Before Danny had time to blink, Aiden reached across the table and promptly snatched up the file. As she pulled it away, he scrambled to grab hold of it and take it back until she slapped away his hands.

"No, Danny. Let it go. I hate to say it, but this case is cold. There are other cases we'll have to deal with tomorrow and I don't want you going all obsessive-compulsive on me."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. For several moments he just stared at her, seemingly analyzing her. Aiden shifted in her seat, the silence and his look making her a little uncomfortable. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to her, he spoke.

"I'm not obsessive."

Aiden snorted. "Right. Have you so easily forgotten that painted homeless man case? 'Cause I can guarantee you Mac hasn't."

Danny inwardly winced. "Alright, I get your point. You don't have to say any more."

"Okay. Now," Aiden stood, taking the file with her, "_I'm_ gonna give this to Stella so she can put it away, and _you_ are going home to get some sleep. You both did the best you could, but this guy was careful. He got rid of everything that could potentially catch him."

"Yeah, yeah...thanks. 'Night, Aid."

"'Night, Danny."

He sat there for a while after she'd left, just looking around. It had been a rather bizarre case. Vanessa had been found beaten and dead in an old abandoned building by teenagers exploring or whatever it was they were doing. Stella and Danny couldn't find a single print on the body, or clothes, and a rape test came back negative, so they didn't get any seminal DNA. The woman had first been tortured with a sharp object, in all probability a knife but one never really knew, and was just beaten in general. Broken bones, cracked ribs, the works. And had finally been strangled with a normal rope. They had found fibers on her neck, but they couldn't find the rope. This had annoyed them to no end. They did find a bloody shoe print that matched the size of their only suspect, a vengeful ex-boyfriend that had been pointed at by the victim's brother, Jim Lamburg. Only, that was all they had and it wasn't enough for a warrant of any kind. Hell, all they really had was the brother's conviction.

So now, the case was cold and Danny didn't like it one bit. He didn't think Stella liked it too much either, but she seemed to be handling it better.

Heaving a sigh, the CSI stood and grabbed his jacket. Feeling in his pocket to make sure he had his keys, he headed out.

* * *

Stepping into his apartment, Danny closed the door and flicked on the lights. He kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket on the chair nearest to him. Walking to the fridge, he opened it and grabbed himself a beer. But before he could open it and take the first swig, his cell phone rang. Danny briskly moved to the chair and snatched it from his jacket pocket. Checking the ID, he grumbled when it said 'Unknown'.

Flipping it open, he greeted with a stiff, "Hello?"

"Hey, Detective? This is Jim Lamburg."

'Shit,' he thought to himself. He'd forgotten to tell Jim they weren't on the case anymore. Great, this was just what he needed.

"Oh, hey, Jim."

"Yeah, I just wanted to know what was happening with my sister's case."

"I...um...I got some bad news..."

There was a hesitation on the other end. "...what? What sort of bad news?"

"I'm not working the case anymore. They pulled me off, saying it's gone cold."

"What! You mean that bastard is getting away with what he did!"

"Listen, Jim, I still want to work the case, but-"

"Don't 'but' me! That lousy piece of shit killed my sister, I know it! You know it! So prove it!"

"I can't! They took me off! And there wasn't any evidence saying he did it, Jim."

"The shoe print, you had the shoe print!"

"Well, guess what? That wasn't enough. I wanted to keep looking for evidence that everyone said wasn't there. I wanted to send that guy where he belonged, but, get this, life isn't always fair."

"Fair? This isn't just fair! That guy killed my sister, and he should be punished for it!"

"And I agree! But there is no way to prove it."

It was quiet for a minute and Danny was beginning to think Jim had hung up. Until a whispering voice came across the line.

"You'll pay for this one day. I swear to God you will."

_Click._

The CSI sighed (which, he realize, he'd been doing a lot today) and closed his phone, dropping it back onto the chair. Alright, maybe he was a little harsh on the guy, but he was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Looking at the unopened beer in his hand, he placed it back in the fridge and headed off to his bedroom.

Yes, sleep was a very good idea.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate the positive reinforcement. But I don't think I'll make this a romance. I'm horrible at writing them. I've tried. Anyways, enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

Danny and Aiden stood in the locker room as Danny told her about the night before.

"He actually said that to you?"

"Yeah, can you believe it!"

Aiden fell into a laughing fit and Danny soon joined her. "What an idiot! Saying that to you! I mean, you've got a gun, what does he think he was gonna do?"

"I don't think he wasgonna do anything, Aid," Danny said after calming down. "I think he was just trying to psyche me out or somethin'."

"My thoughts exactly. What kind of maniac would do anything to someone armed with a gun? Or who has cop friends? That's just plain stupid."

"The only people to do that are the crooks. And if they're stupid enough to try it, that's probably why they're always caught...almost always, anyway."

Aiden closed her locker and sighed as she looked at her watch. "Come on, let's go. Mac probably has a case for us about now."

"How would you know? It's not like all the criminals in the city get together and plan exactly when they're gonna hit."

"Just shut-up and come on. I bet you twenty bucks we have a case the moment we see Mac."

"Deal."

* * *

"Alright, cough it up, Messer." 

"I hate you."

Aided stood impatiently, yet a little haughtily, at the crime scene with her hand out as Danny reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

"Thank you," she said cheerily, snatching it out of his hand.

"Ow..." Danny said softly, shaking his hand. Her quick grab of the money had given him a paper cut. The small ones that really sting. He glared at her while she looked on innocently. Detective Don Flack then approached them, looking mildly amused.

"What've we got?" Danny asked promptly before Aiden could do any gloating.

"DOA over there," Flack said, leading them to the body of a young caucasian male lying on the sidewalk, a pool of blood beneath him. "Lady who reported it is over there giving a statement."

Danny and Aiden set down their kits, snapped on their gloves and began processing the scene.

"Looks like he died from a knife wound to the leg," Flack continued. "Hit an artery or something."

"We'll let Dr. Hawkes decide that," Danny stated from his place on the sidewalk where he was taking pictures of the victim. "What makes you say it's a knife, anyway? Could be a number of weapons, though admittedly the most common weapon is a knife."

"'Cause a bloody one was found beside that dumpster over there."

Danny looked to where Flack was indicating and watched as Aiden walked into the alley the dumpster was in. On the other side that Danny couldn't see from his position, he heard Aiden say, "He's right."

She turned around and headed back to her kit, picking it up and taking it with her to where the knife lay. Taking out a ruler, she placed it beside the bloody weapon. It was six inches in all, four of them being the blade. She took a picture of it before swabbing the blood on the knife (just to be certain) and bagging the weapon.

Flack looked down at Danny and smiled. "Should've bet you on that, huh, Danny boy?"

The CSI just scowled and continued on with his work.

* * *

The case had been rather straightforward. The victim, Alan Richardson, was killed by a knife wound that had hit an artery in his leg (Danny had cursed Flack and his perceptiveness when Dr. Hawkes had confirmed what he had said at the crime scene, and had been very grateful Flack didn't bet him on it). The murderer, Bill Wallace, had killed him because he had yet to pay Bill what he owed him for a kitchen remodeling job. Stupid reason to kill someone, but the CSIs had seen worse. They had been able to match the man's prints they found on the hilt of the knife with some on AFIS. It seems Bill had been a rather naughty teenager, and a horrible basketball player. He had missed when throwing the knife into the open dumpster, which clued them in. 

Danny leaned back in his chair in the break room and cracked his knuckles. Aiden looked up and frowned. "That's disgusting."

Danny laughed. "Hey, it's not like you don't do it. And it isn't as disgusting as some things."

Aiden just shrugged and turned back to her magazine. "You're right. But it's still yucky."

"'Yucky', Burn?" Danny laughed. "Didn't realize we were still in the second grade."

"Well, I'm sorry if I didn't want to say 'disgusting' again. It's been used already. Twice."

"Well, there are other, _better,_ words you could have used."

"Like what?"

Danny held out his hand and started counting them off on his fingers. "Repellant, revolting, abhorrent, detestable-"

"Alright, alright!" she said, putting her hands up in a mock form of surrender. "I get it!"

The two of them were quiet for a few moments, when Danny stood up.

"Well, if we're done here, I think I'm gonna head home. Shift's over anyways."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Walking into the locker room, he opened his and grabbed his jacket. He checked the pocket to make sure his keys were there before closing the door and heading to the parking lot.

During the entire drive home, Danny couldn't shake the thought he was being followed. And it wasn't just that sinking feeling in his gut. Whenever he checked the rearview mirror, he saw the same blue car behind him. But of course that isn't enough to base this paranoia on. There are millions of cars in New York City.

That's why he checked the license plate.

It was always the same. Every couple of blocks, he'd look behind him and see the same car and license plate. And he'd sometimes go in an entirely different direction, thendouble back, and the car would still be there. It was rather disturbing. Most would believe it a coincidence, but when they turn around and basically go back the way they'd been coming from, and the car would do the same thing...it was a different matter entirely.

So Danny decided to get home as fast as he could.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you all for the reviews. They make me very happy, and give me the will to continue on. Not to mention the fun I'm having writing this. Thanks again, and enjoy! 

**Chapter 3**

Danny awoke to his cell phone ringing on his bedside table. Squinting at his alarm clock, he groaned. He'd only been asleep for around three hours. Snatching up the irritating piece of technology, he flipped it open.

"What?" he snapped in an aggravated tone.

"You might want to start watching your back more carefully."

"Not you again."

"You don't sound very happy to hear me."

"Could you just answer one question: what were you doing following me?"

"Oh, so you have been watching yourself. That's good. But you'll have to start doing better."

"What are you rambling on about, Lamburg?"

"You'll find out."

Danny began to grind his teeth together. "I thought I told you there was nothing more to do on the case. It isn't my fault they stopped it."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't! Now, can you just leave me alone? I would like to get some sleep."

With that, he closed his phone and fell back asleep.

Danny's heart leapt as his real alarm clock went off. Taking a deep breath and cursing himself for being so jumpy, he shut it off and got out of bed. He stretched and rubbed his eyes as he walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Throwing his close in the laundry hamper, he stepped under the warm water.

Ten minutes later, he turned off the water, shivering a little at the loss of warmth, and grabbed a towel to dry himself off. Wrapping it around his waist, he walked tiredly back into his bedroom. He put on his glasses and changed into the clothes he was going to wear that day. Danny quickly made himself a piece of toast for breakfast with a glass of milk and sat down to read whatever magazine was on the table. It was basically the same as every morning.

Until he went to leave his apartment.

As he approached the door, jacket over his arm, he noticed an envelope had been pushed under it. Confused and curious, he picked it up, headed back to the table and sat down to open it. Taking out the letter, he was horrified to find red droplets over it. And he was positive it wasn't paint. It wasn't the right colour or texture. Trying to ignore them, he read the letter:

_Messer,_

_Only a matter of time. I'm going to get you. You'll pay for what you did. Don't think your friends can help you. Don't even think YOU can stop me. You can't. The point of this letter is to give you a fair warning, so that everything that happens afterwards I won't feel guilty about doing, because you were warned. You new it was coming. Not that I'd feelguilty anways.So say good-bye to everyone now, Messer, before it's too late._

_You know who._

_PS. I'm watching you._

Danny quickly folded the piece of paper and put it in his pocket. He looked around his home, when he suddenly felt a bout of terror, and his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. And seeing as he couldn't see anyone to fight, he got up and all but bolted to his door. He threw it open and jumped outside, closing and locking the door behind. For a moment, he just leaned against thewall and breathed. Why him? Why did these things always happen to him?

* * *

"I'm telling you, Aiden, he was following me!"

"Danny, you're just being paranoid."

Danny slammed his locker closed and looked pointedly at Aiden. "He was following me, I know it. I changed direction to prove it to myself and he followed me! I was practically going back the way I came, and went down almost every street in the city!"

That was an obvious slight exaggeration, but it had been many streets. And by the time he'd reached home, it had felt like he'd been around the entire city.

"Whoa...breathe, Danny, calm down. It was probably just some...weird coincidence."

"Yeah, that's what it had to be. A coincidence," he said sarcastically. "He decided to go down the same road as me, then completely change direction at the same time I do, only to turn back at the same time I do. Definitely a coincidence. The fact that he called and admitted it doesn't count for anything."

"Hey! I don't need any sass from you, Messer. And you didn't tell me he called! Like you said yesterday, he's just trying to psyche you out. He's angry the guy who killed his sister got away and he's taking it out on you, one of the investigators. You can't prove he means to actually hurt you."

"Yes, I can! Look, I..." Danny paused and began to wonder if it was a good idea to talk to Aiden about this. Maybe Stella because she had been on the case with him, or Mac. He is his boss. Yeah, they were the better people to go to. When he continued talking to Aiden, his voice was nearly a whisper, "I...I'm sorry, just...just forget I said anything."

With that, he walked past her and out of the locker room. Aiden watched him and then realized that this was really bothering him. She was about to call after him, but decided against it. He probably didn't fell like talking to her much right now.

* * *

"Hey, Stella."

Stella looked up from the evidence she was processing at the moment to find Danny standing beside her. He was fiddling with a piece of paper or something in his hand. She could see a bit of red on some spots of red onit and wondered what on earth it was. And if Stella didn't know better, she'd say he was high-strung over something. "Hey, Danny."

"Uh...could I talk to you a minute?"

"Oh...I'm sorry, but right now I'm a little busy. Could it wait? I think I might have found something important for the case I'm working on with Mac."

"Oh, no, it's okay," he said, shifting a little. Danny looked around somewhat nervously.

"Are you sure? Because if you'd just wait a couple minutes..."

"No, it's...it's fine. I'll let you get back to what you were doing. Bye"

"Yeah," Stella said, and watched him as he turned and walked away. "Bye."

Stella didn't go immediately back to the evidence. She frowned at Danny's back. Something wasn't right, and she was concerned. He wasn't usually so nervous...normally, he'd be tossing around jokes, mostly it wasn't on purpose, they'd just slip out. Or if it was a really bad case, he'd be a little...uptight, but not full blown-out anxious like he was right then.

Maybe she was just thinking about it too much. Turning back to the evidence she had been working on, she started again.

* * *

There was a slight knock on his door, and Mac looked up from his desk. "Danny, come in."

Danny closed the door behind and sat across from Mac. As Mac watched his CSI's behaviour, he came to the same conclusion as Stella: something wasn't quite right. It was obvious something was bothering him. But Mac just smiled a little before continuing. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to talk about...the Vanessa Lamburg case," Danny stated quietly, not looking Mac in the eyes.

Mac sighed and rubbed his forehead. "What exactly about the case? You shouldn't be worrying about it anymore. I know you're upset that you and Stella couldn't catch Vanessa's killer, but-"

"Mac, it isn't really the case _directly_...it's more about her brother."

"Oh."

"He didn't take the news too well and he-"

Danny stopped when Mac's desk phone rang. Mac looked apologetically to his CSI and picked it up. "Hello?...Could you hold on a second? Thanks," the head CSI looked up at the man across his desk. "Danny, could you hold on a second?"

Danny was thinking that the world was against him talking about what Jim Lamburg was doing to him. And he hated it was bothering him so much. What did he do to deserve this? "You know what, Mac? I'll just...come by later, and continue then."

Mac frowned, but nodded. "If you're sure..."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks. Bye."

"Bye."

Mac watched him go before turning back to the caller on the other line. "So, what were you saying?"

* * *

Danny (and he hated to admit this) was on the verge of tears. This guy was serious, Danny knew it now. He wasn't playing a mind game or anything. He was on the hunt for revenge, and poor Danny didn't know how he was going to throw him off his scent. The CSI was now so wound up about this, he couldn't concentrate on his work.

It was a slow day, so they were all just going over papers on their desks. But Danny couldn't think of anything aside from Jim. He'd pay for it later when he had more paperwork to do, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't going to let the guy see he was getting to him so easily. Hell, he was going to fight back when he got the chance. His very survival depended on it. If Danny had lost a family member to murder, only to find the case was called off, well, he'd probably be angry, too. He'd want revenge, but would he actually go through with it?

That didn't matter at the moment, though. All that mattered was that Jim wanted revenge, and Danny was the victim of his rage.

He was pulled from his thoughts when someone called his name. He looked up to find Stella beside him. Realizing he still had the letter in his hand, he placed it under all the papers on the desk, hoping she'd let it go.

"Hey, Danny? Are you alright? You don't look too good."

"Oh...yeah," he said quietly. "I'm just not feeling that great. Stomach's bothering me."

"This doesn't have anything to do with what you wanted to talk about before, does it?"

"No," Danny lied, and he knew Stella could see right through it. Still, ever like the mother figure, she put her hand on his forehead, as if checking for a fever.

"Well, you aren't warm. Do you think you should be here? Maybe you should go home, get some rest."

"That sounds like a great idea, but shift isn't over yet," Danny pointed out.

"If you want, I can tell Mac you're feeling sick and I sent you home."

"I dunno..." he trailed off. Home wasn't exactly the place he wanted to be at the moment.

"Well, it's your decision and you have three seconds before I force you to go home."

He just sat there, mulling it over in his head.

"One..."

He could go home and rest, probably have a nightmare or two. Jim said he was watching him. Did that mean he had his house monitored?

"Two..."

Or maybe home was the safest place he could be, aside from here that is. Yeah, it should be safe. Should be...

"Three..."

"I think I'll stay here, Stella, thanks anyways."

"Alright. Hope you feel better soon."

He watched her leave and resisted the urge to slam his hand down on the desk. He hated this feeling of vulnerability. He'd only felt it once before (that he could remember), and that was when Mac was working the Tanglewood case. But this was way, way worse. Mac hadn't mentioned that yet, and Danny prayed he never would. That's the closest he was going to get to it going away. Jim wasn't going away. Not until he died, or he won. And both thoughts weren't very comforting to Danny.

Sighing, the CSI glanced at the papers in front of him. Setting to work, he put all his will into not thinking about Jim.

* * *

Danny just stood outside his apartment door, staring at it like it was the door to the underworld. He swallowed and opened it, stepping back as he pushed it open. Nothing. He mentally kicked himself. 'Come on, Messer. You're better than this. Don't let some freakin' maniac make you afraid to enter your own apartment.'

He did the normal things he did when getting home, like everyday. He kicked off his shoes, threw his jacket on his chair, and headed for the fridge. But when his phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Growling, he reprimanded himself. 'What a mess you've turned out to be. You can handle blood and gore, guns, and dead people, but you're afraid of some guy who won't even threaten you in person. Yeah, what a great CSI you are.'

Picking up the phone, he answered with a terse "Hello?"

"So you are there. When you didn't answer I thought you'd gone off to a friend's house with your tail between your legs like the cowardly dog you are."

Danny bristled at the comment. That was the last straw. This guy was getting bolder, but Danny was **not** going to let the guy talk to him like that. "Listen, you sick bastard. I'm not hiding from you, so why don't you just come and get me, like you threatened? Oh, that's right, that's all they are. Threats. Empty...pathetic...threats."

"Yeah, you'd like to think you aren't afraid of me, but guess what? I know you are. I've been watching you, and I see how nervous you are. You look around you seven times a minute, just to see if I'm there, but you can't see me. And that's the worst part. You can't _see_ me."

Danny's heart dropped into this stomach. He was watching him. Somehow. He began to turn around in circles in his house, trying to see if there were any cameras or anything. And who wouldn't be afraid of this guy? He was crazy. "You're sick," he managed to choke out, softly.

"Oh, you'll see just how sick I can be."

"Why don't you just go to hell, and leave me the f--- alone," he nearly shouted, the anger, frustrationand fear finally getting to him. And to think, Jim was able to do this to him in a matter of days. This guy was a great manipulator, and if it weren't for the fact that he was out to get Danny, the CSI would have been in awe of him. Wasn't it just a little while ago that he and Aiden were laughing over the whole situation?

He hung the phone up forcefully, and he wouldn't be surprised if it never rang again. There was a knock at the door, and Danny looked around for something useful. His gun. He had to get his gun. The knocking grew louder and harder. Danny searched his pockets, but wasn't able to find it. 'Shit, I must have left if in my locker! Or the desk drawer...I'll have to find it later. How stupid can I be?' Searching through his kitchen drawers, he pulled out a rolling pin and for one amusing second, he thought, 'Oh, how cliché, Messer.'

He hid his 'weapon' behind his back and slowly moved to the door. He peeked through the eye-hole, but didn't see anyone. Either Jim was hiding out of view, or Aiden was pulling a horribly mean trick on him. Taking a deep breath, Danny yanked the door open and found...

Nobody.

It must have just been his imagination. It should be running wild with everything that was happening. He began to close the door, when someone jumped in front of him and struck him over the head with something thick and hard. There was the noise of something shattering, and he suspected the object had been made of clay. He fell and his glasses went skittering under the chair his jacket was on. When he opened his eyes to try and get a sense of where he should go, he could only see red. Panicking, he began to shuffle backwards and reached one hand up to rub at his eyes. They must be filled with blood, but he doubted they were actually bleeding. Which meant he had a serious head wound.

He heard someone walking towards him, and was very surprised when an obviously heavy, thick boot came in contact with his head. Hard. The last he remembered thinking was that his head injury must be beyond severe now.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, thanks for the reviews! They can really motivate you if you're having trouble writing. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

It was a rather slow day for which the CSIs were somewhat thankful. Sure, they were bored, but that meant no crimes had been committed, and therefore, no one was hurt or dead. Stella and Mac had wrapped up the case they'd been working on, and were now doing whatever paperwork they had to shuffle through. So, on a day like this, where they were just catching up on their work, or busy being forever bored because crooks decided they didn't want to do anything that day, only one thing could possibly be wrong.

"Hey, Mac. Have you seen Danny today? He hasn't shown up yet."

Mac looked up as Stella walked into his office and sat down. "No. Isn't he here? The day's half over."

"No. He didn't call in sick?"

"Not as far as I know."

Stella frowned. Mac watched her, trying to work out what she was thinking, because it looked like she had something she wanted to say.

"Stella, is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just...worried."

"Worried? You know Danny can take care of himself."

"But wouldn't he have called in? And...yesterday, Danny didn't look too well. When I asked, he said his stomach was bothering him. I did not believe that for one second."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because he had come to me with something to say. I don't know what. I was busy processing some evidence...I told him if he'd wait a couple minutes, but he said it was alright. He had this piece of paper in his hand that he was playing with. It had red drops on it...He seemed really anxious about something."

It was Mac's turn to frown. "He came to me, too. Something about that case that went cold a couple days ago. The Vanessa Lamburg one." Stella nodded. "I told him not to worry about it, but he said it wasn't the case directly, and he was going to say something about the brother, when I got a phone call. He said he'd drop by later."

"I think I'm gonna take a look at that note in his hand. It might give us a hint as to what's going on. If he didn't take it home with him."

"No. He wouldn't appreciate us going through his things if nothing is wrong. We'll call him first," Mac stated. He pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Danny's home phone first.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

After five rings, Mac hung up and tried his cell. He'd like to think Danny was stuck in traffic or something, but even New York traffic wouldn't hold you from work for half a day. As much as Mac wanted to stay as far away from the thought as possible, he couldn't help the little inkling that something was very wrong. And from what he could gather, Jim Lamburg was playing a big part in it.

Danny didn't pick up his cell phone, but that could of been for a number of reasons. Only it doesn't explain why he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Mac looked at Stella.

"Let's find Aiden. He may have talked to her, or called her today."

His partner nodded and they both stood to begin searching the lab for their other CSI.

It didn't take them long to find her. Aiden was sitting in the break room, looking as bored as ever. She looked up once she saw the other two out of the corner of her eye. "Hey."

"Aiden," she frowned at Mac's tone, "have you seen or heard from Danny today?"

"No. Why?"

"Shift's half over and he isn't here. And before you ask, he didn't call in. Do you have any idea why he isn't here?"

"I don't know if it has anything to do with why he isn't here, but yesterday he was pretty...fidgety over something Jim Lamburg did-"

"Wait," Stella interrupted. "Mac, didn't he want to talk to you about that guy?"

Mac nodded. "Aiden, what did he say to you?"

"That the guy was angry that his sister's killer wasn't put away, and he'd actually threatened Danny. We didn't think he'd actually do anything. And then the next day, Danny said he'd followed him everywhere he went, and that he'd actually confessed to doing it over the phone. It was really bothering him."

"Something else must have happened that would cause Danny to be bothered of that guy the way he was," Stella concluded. "I'm going to see if that note is still here."

Stella took off and Mac followed, Aiden not far behind. "Mac, what's she talking about? What note?"

"When Danny went to talk to her yesterday, he had a piece of paper in his hand. Stella thinks it has something to do with this."

Aiden nodded and followed. By the time the two had caught up with Stella, she was already shuffling through papers, and searching desk drawers. "I can't find it."

"Maybe it fell on the ground?" Aiden suggested, walking over to Stella to help her look. They got down on their hands and knees and sure enough, the paper was stuck beneath one of the wheels of the chair. Aiden pushed the chair away and Stella picked up the letter. She unfolded it and began reading it.

"This would do it," she stated, handing the paper to Mac. He was glowering at it before he even began to read it, knowing that whatever was written on it couldn't be anything good. And the drops of red didn't bode well, either. As his eyes scanned the page, his expression went from anger, to horror. When he finished, he passed it to Aiden.

"When you're done with that, see if you can get any fingerprints off of it. And find out what that red is. Stella, come with me. We're going to his apartment."

Aiden nodded, and the two of them turned to walk away when Mac's phone rang. He answered it, and from his face, Stella could tell it wasn't good news. Once he hung up, he answered Stella's unasked question. "Stella...you'll need your kit."

Stella shut her eyes and there was a brief moment of stunned silence before everyone got to work.

* * *

Mac and Stella moved somberly and stiffly towards Flack, who was waiting for them outside the building. He nodded a greeting and led them quietly inside. No one spoke until they reached their unwanted destination. 

"Like I told you on the phone, neighbours reported a fight. They waited ten minutes after the noises stopped before checking it out...and found this."

He nodded in the direction of Danny's apartment. But before Mac moved towards the scene, he turned to Flack, with angry eyes. Flack knew the anger wasn't directed at him, but it was still...unsettling to see. "They waited ten minutes? Why didn't they call in _while_ it was happening?"

Flack didn't say anything, just looked away. The two CSIs stepped towards their missing member's home. Stella breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself down. Mac's eyes grew dark and his expression became grim and bitter. This was not the worst crime scene they'd ever been to, but because it was in Danny's home (if had been in any of theirs for that matter), it became more terrible than anything before it.

Right at their feet, just beyond the doorway, was a vase broken into thousands of bloody pieces. The red liquid was sitting in a puddle around the clay bits. Further into the apartment, red hand prints could be seen, from someone trying to back away from their attacker on the ground and stop the bleeding. When they stopped, another puddle (a little larger than the first) began.

Mac and Stella glanced at each other before setting down their kits and processing the scene. Pictures were taken, blood was swabbed from everything, the clay pieces were bagged, and so on. Stella found the rolling pin that she assumed was to be used in defense and had rolled under the table. On the table she found the envelope that the letter would have come in. If they couldn't get prints off the actual letter, maybe they could get some from this. Though they already had their first suspect.

"Stella," Mac called, looking under a chair. She walked over just as he was standing up and held up Danny's glasses.

She took another deep breath. "I should have talked to him. If I had, then maybe none of this-"

"Don't," Mac commanded. "You can't blame yourself. Remember he'd tried to talk to me, too. And Aiden. But we can't sit around thinking of the 'if's because they won't help us find him."

"I know," Stella sighed. "I think we're done here. I'll take all this back to the lab."

Mac nodded. "I'll be right there."

He just stood in the apartment as Stella began taking the evidence back to the car. He knew he should be helping her, but he needed this time alone. "Where have you gotten to, Danny..."

* * *

Danny woke to the worst headache he ever remembered having. He reached a hand up to feel his head, and found a cloth that was probably not too sanitary wrapped around it. About to try and lift himself up, he was discouraged by a heavy boot kicking him in the ribs. He gasped slightly at the sudden eruption of pain, and everything came back to him with a little too much clarity. 

"Finally awake," a voice said close to his right. "I thought you were going to die before I had a chance to properly repay you."

Danny turned towards the voice and forced his eyes to open, only to find the world a big blur. It was dark, which he assumed was because their weren't any lights in the room. "Go 'way," he muttered in what he hoped was a furious voice, trying to turn onto his other side. He really didn't want to deal with Jim at the moment.

"No," came the reply. "You get to suffer like my sister, and then decide what it's like to not have your killer put behind bars."

The CSI rolled his eyes, wincing at the pain it caused his head. He was tired of letting this guy scare him. What was there to really be afraid of? Jim was only a little taller and brawnier than Danny. He'd dealt with worse before. And now that he was actually seeing Jim (almost; it was rather difficult without his glasses), he wasn't so intimidating. Like Jim had said before, it was the fact that he couldn't see him that was scaring Danny and making him so nervous. But now...now he could fight back.

"The only problem," Danny began, "is that they'll catch you."

"No, they won't. I was careful. I didn't leave any fingerprints or anything."

Danny laughed, which, he was happy to say, annoyed Jim to no end. "Fingerprints? You think that's all they need? I bet it was your blood on the letter, right?" Jim growled. Finally, a bet Danny had won. "And I told my friend you'd threatened me and followed me around. You're the first person they're gonna check out."

"Shut up," Jim hissed. "You're lying. You're just trying to...to freak me out. They won't catch me, they can't! I hate you!"

There was a clank of metal and some footsteps, but Danny couldn't really see what Jim was doing. Of course, it became all too clear when the metal object smashed into his right ankle. **Hard**. A resounding _crack_ followed, accompanied by a biting pain that traveled halfway up his leg. Danny refused to scream, but could not manage to hold back the surprised and pain filled groan that escaped. He didn't remember broken bones being so painful. He didn't think much more on it as Jim began beating on his arms and rib cage. His brain began to tell him he was too vulnerable on his side like he was, and Danny tried to curl into the fetal position. He was stopped as one of Jim's boots slammed into his stomach and stole his breath. Jim continued to swing at him, but that was the last thing on his mind. He was trying to regain control of his breathing, but his lungs didn't want to co-operate. His vision swam and blurred more than usual, and he was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous.

Jim stopped all of a sudden and the CSI took the opportunity to curl in on himself. Danny finally regained control of his lungs and took in a shuddering breath as all the pain he was in registered in his brain. He watched as Jim walked to the other side of the room. His eyes started to close, but hewas determinedto not go to sleep. He wouldn't allow himself to sleep with that maniac in the room. He couldn't.

* * *

Danny woke with a start, only to have his ribs scream in protest. He moaned softly so as to attract as little attention to himself as possible. Looking around the room, he couldn't see Jim, or the blurry blob that would have been Jim. Actually, he couldn't see much of anything. It was still rather dark. Feeling uncomfortable on the floor, he pulled himself into a sitting position, being careful of his injured ankle. Scooting backwards, he stopped when he hit the wall and leaned back against it gently. Deciding now was as good as any, Danny started to assess his wounds. He already knew his right ankle was broken (Jim could really swing hard). Some of his ribs were no doubt cracked, a few probably broken. But the worst, he thought, would have to be his head wound. Lifting a hand, he felt around the make-shift bandage until he felt the place where he'd been hit with the vase. He hissed quietly as the tender area stung. 'Great,' he thought, 'I'm on the right road to becoming brain damaged...' 

He let his hand fall and lay his head back against the wall. Danny felt his eyes start closing, when he sat bolt up, ignoring the pain it caused his ribs. Jim wasn't there. He could escape.

It would be difficult, but he wouldn't let such a small, trivial think like a broken ankle stop him. Not when he could get free. He didn't know when he'd get another chance like this. Of course, he had complete faith in his friends, but he didn't know how long it would take them and he'd like to get out of here as soon as he could.

Danny didn't even go near the possibility that he might never will.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you, again:D I was having a little trouble with this chapter, but I managed with the reviewer support. Enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

Mac sat in his office, looking around tiredly. He'd never once thought something like this could happen. How does something like this happen? He supposed that's what all the family and friends of a victim thought when they received the news. And Mac didn't like being in their shoes. If was very uncomfortable, not knowing. What was worse than not knowing what's happening to a close colleague?

He was surprised that Missing Persons Unit hadn't taken over yet, but he wasn't complaining. As far as Mac was concerned, this case was his. And he wasn't going to give it up.

Pushing his chair back, he walked out his office to find Stella and Aiden. He knew he should have been helping them, but...he had needed to think first. Before he could focus his mind on the evidence, he had to clear his mind on all unnecessary and unwanted thoughts. Like the fact that Danny had tried to ask for help (which must have been hard for the obstinate CSI), but they'd been too busy to listen. That one got Mac right in the chest. Or the fact that his CSI was somewhere wounded (he didn't doubt all the blood at the scene was Danny's) with a man obsessed with getting revenge on something Danny had had no control over.

He was woken from his taboo thoughts (that he hadn't meant to be thinking at all) when Aiden called his name. "What've you got?"

"I couldn't find any fingerprints from the letter or the envelope Stella gave me. But some good news? Even though it was hard, I managed to take a sample of the blood from the letter," Aiden hesitated.

"Aiden? What is it?" He knew what she was going to say. It was too apparent. He still wanted to hear it, because there was a part of him that hoped he was wrong. But his subconscious knew he was all too right.

"It doesn't match any of the blood taken from Danny's apartment. And since we know it isn't Danny's blood on the letter..." she trailed off, knowing there was no need to continue.

"So...the blood on the letter is Lamburg's?"

"I can't say for sure that it's _Lamburg's_, because I had nothing to compare it to and he may have used somebody else's. But if we were to assume that he's pulling through with his threat, then yes, he _did_ it."

"Let's go find Stella," Mac said. "Maybe she's found something."

"No need, Mac. I'm right here."

Mac turned to find Stella standing behind him and stepped back so the three of them formed a triangle. "Did you find anything?"

"The vase was made here in New York. I was able to find the store it was sold at and it turns out it was handmade, so there isn't another one like it. It was made by a couple who own a small clayware business on the lower east-side."

"Good. You go talk to them. Take a picture of Lamburg and ask them if he's ever bought something there." Stella inclined her head and set off to do as what was asked of her. "Aiden, you and I are going to get hold of Danny's phone records. Maybe he received another call."

* * *

Stella stepped into the quaint little shop. Pots, mugs, statues and vases lined the shelves, decorated with birds and flowers of many colours. Even a few wind chimes hung from the ceiling. But she wasn't interested in what was on the shelves. Approaching the counter where a little old lady sat reading a cooking magazine, she knocked on the table to catch her attention. The lady looked up.

"Oh, hello, dear. How may I help you?"

"I'm Stella Bonasera from the New York crime lab, and I was wondering if you could answer a few questions."

"Oh, my! The crime lab? Has someone been murdered?"

Stella inhaled sharply at the thought. "No, no. No one has been murdered. I just need to ask a few questions for an investigation."

"Well, let me get my husband in case I don't remember anything," the lady suggested, and slowly hobbled off into another room. Stella assumed that was the room in which the clay was shaped, fired, and painted. While the lady was gone, the CSI took the time to look at some of the things they had in stock. They were really beautiful...

Her head snapped up as the lady and her husband entered the main room. "This is my husband, Harold. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name's Rose. Harold, this young lady's from the crime lab."

"Crime lab? We haven't done nothin'."

"She just wants to ask us a few questions. Go on, dear."

Stella plastered a fake smile on her face and pulled out the picture. "Do either of you remember seeing this man in here before?"

The elderly couple took the picture, and stared at if for several seconds. "He looks familiar," stated the old woman. "Don't you think, Harold?"

"Yeah, yeah. Remember him. Came in here...what? Two days ago?"

"I think it was yesterday," Rose said, tapping her chin. "He came in and bought one of our vases. Said it was for a friend. It was one of our best, if I do say so myself."

Stella handed them another picture, one of a recreation of the vase. "Was this it?"

"Why, yes. That's it. Why do you have it?"

"It is part of our investigation. Thank you for your time," Stella said, taking the pictures back. She turned on her heels and walked out of the store. Now they knew Jim bought the vase. All they had to prove is that he used it.

* * *

"Something doesn't make sense here, Aiden," Mac said, becoming frustrated. "It says he got a call last night at 9:15 last night, the only one aside from ours today."

Aiden's brow knit in confusion. "So?"

"So why would he wait until the next morning to attack? That would have given Danny time to up and leave to somewhere else. And another thing. The neighbours said they called it in ten minutes after the fight, right?" Aiden nodded. "We received the call just after noon, maybe ten minutes after they called it in. But that's impossible. Danny would have been on his way here hours before."

Her eyes widened in comprehension. "Their stories don't match Danny's day-to-day time line."

"We need to talk to the neighbours that called it in again."

"Hey, guys," Stella greeted, taking a seat beside them. "Lamburg did go to that shop, and he was the one who bought the vase."

"Great," Aiden said. "Mac found an inconsistency in the neighbours' stories. Turns out the attack couldn't have happened when they said it did. Danny would have been on his way to work way before."

"Very contradictory," Stella concluded. "Everything is falling so neatly in place. If only it had sooner...So are we going to talk to them or what?"

* * *

"Mrs and Mr Clearwater. We're here because you're account of when the struggle occurred could not have taken place when it did," Mac stated evenly, though his blood was unmistakably boiling. Stella and Aiden could not help the cold looks they were giving to the couple before them.

Amy Clearwater played with her hands as she and her husband sat in their home across from the three CSI. She was obviously uneasy, but her husband, Rick, kept his face stoic. "We did not lie, if that's what you're implying."

"It is, and you did," Stella glowered. Why couldn't people just tell them beforehand? Then they wouldn't have to be in such a situation. But nothing was never made easy for them.

"He threatened us," Amy said in a meek voice. She was never good at lying and keeping secrets. In high school, her friends didn't tell her anything private because she was such a gossip. She knew it was wrong to tell people's secrets, but information like this, where someone could die, shouldn't be held back. But Rick didn't think so.

"Don't say anything," her husband hissed.

"But they can help us!"

"He'll-"

"Mr Clearwater," Mac warned. "Unless you want to be charged as an accessory in this, I suggest you let her speak."

Rick quieted himself, and sat glowering at Mac while his wife went on in her hushed tone, "Last night...around 9:20...there was a commotion next door. We came out of our apartment to see if Danny needed help with something. But when we got there...there was a man in his doorway. He had a mask in his hand, which I assumed he'd taken off, not expecting anyone to come out into the hall. There was a...broken vase on the floor...and...and..." she covered her eyes and took deep breaths, "I'm sure you know what we found. We were going to call the police, but the man threatened to kill us, and the entire building if we said anything. He said he'd make a bomb, and set it off outside our door."

Stella took out a photo. "Was this the man the threatened you?"

Amy took the picture, and sniffled. They watched her eyes roam over the face, and she nodded. "That's him. That's the man that did it. What's his name?"

"Jim Lamburg. We thank you for the information. It's a great help."

Stella took the picture back, and the three of them turned to leave. Amy followed them to the door. "You'll find him won't you? I hate to think that something horrible happened, because we were afraid to call you. Danny was always nice to us. We'd invite him to dinner a couple times a month. There was always a 'good morning' or 'good afternoon', 'hey, how are you?'. He didn't deserve this."

"We'll find him. And we'll make sure you and everyone else in the building remains unharmed."

As they stood outside the doorway, the three CSI looked at each other. "That's enough for a warrant to search his apartment," Aiden said.

Stella and Mac nodded in agreement.

* * *

It had taken Danny several minutes to stand up, let alone _stay_ upright, but he had managed it. Now all he had to do was find an exit. Which he knew wasn't going to be so simple. Unfortunately, he couldn't find anything to use as a crutch, so he had only three other choices. He could either skip on one foot and risk falling over, or he could walk and put as little weight on his ankle as possible. But he wasn't about to try either of those, so he chose the third option. To follow the wall. Sure, it would take a long time, but it would be safer.

Bracing his hands in front of his body and on the wall, he leant on it and slowly moved forward. It wasn't too difficult as his injured foot was closest to the wall, making it easier to balance. He kept his eyes as focused as they would go and became very wary of open doorways and staircases. After all, Vanessa had been found on the third story.

Which lead to his next problem: getting down stairs. If Jim were doing this like his sister's murder, there would be two flights for Danny to go down. How, he didn't know. But he'd figure it out when he came to it. Or maybe the CSIs would have found where he was by then, and he wouldn't have to figure out how to get down the stairs. That was the most appealing solution, but he wasn't about to get his hopes too far up. At any rate, he wished he found a staircase (or maybe there was a ramp in this place, he really couldn't recall) soon, so he could get of the creepy old building no matter how long it took. He laughed at the thought of Aiden hearing him say that. _Creepy_. It was like her 'yucky'.

On the topic of Aiden, he wondered what she was thinking at that moment. Probably she should have listened to him. It really wasn't fair for Danny to be thinking like that, though. She had listened, just hadn't believed it was this serious. He could practically hear Stella chastising him, saying, 'You should have waited those couple of minutes. Then you could have told me and you would never be in this mess.' Or perhaps it would be more like, 'I should have let you tell me, I'm sorry. You said it would have only taken a moment, and the evidence would have still been there when I went back to it.' No, no, not that either...probably somewhere in between. Now, Mac, he'd be wondering why Danny hadn't come back later, or waited for the call to be over. Well, he'd find out _exactly_ what they'd say eventually.

Danny inwardly cheered as the hand furthest away from him didn't hit anymore wall, telling him he could go that way. Looking down the hallway, he was glad to find windows were lining it, making it much more easy to see. He pulled himself through the doorway, and once again began following the wall. He couldn't help but smile to himself. What was Jim thinking, leaving Danny alone? Didn't it ever cross his mind he'd escape? And thinking of Jim...where was he?

No time for that now. He really didn't care where Jim was at the moment, as long as he wasn't there. Until Jim came back (and Danny hoped he'd managed to get out by that time), he was safe. Not that he was afraid of another beating. That wasn't it. He was able to handle them when he was ten, then he was definitely able to handle them now. No, if Jim came back, he wouldn't get the chance to escape again. He'd be taken back to the dark room, where he would most likely be murdered, like Vanessa. A tremor went up his spine as that thought that he'd forbidden himself to think entered his conscious mind. Imagining such things is what caused people to give up.

Forcing his mind to the task on hand, Danny moved down the corridor. As he proceeded, he noticed at the end of the hall, it plunged into total darkness. He focused on that point, figuring it led to another area of the building, or stairwell, which lightened his spirits a degree. When he was nearly three feet from it, his hands felt nothing but air beside him. Not prepared for the sudden loss of wall, he grabbed the side of what he now realized to be the entrance to a room he assumed was located beside the dark one. He let go of the side of the doorway he was gripping with one hand and stretched it across until he felt the continuation of the wall. When he did, he firmly clasped it while his other hand shot out so he was clutching both sides of it. Once he had a good hold, he pulled himself across the break in the barrier between the hall and room, hopping on his uninjured ankle as he went along.

From what little light that leaked into the darkness ahead, Danny could indeed tell it was stairs, much to his delight. By now he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and confidence radiated from his body. He was almost out. He could make it. The only thing left to do was get down the two flights of stairs before him to the first floor, and leave. Then he could get help. Now, to decide how he was going to descend them. He could just hop down them. That was really the only thing he could think of, but it would be dangerous. Of course, staying in this building would be dangerous, as well. Ergo, he believed the best solution would be to try. All he had to do was pause on each step to keep his balance. But like most things, it was going to be easier said than done.

Breathing deeply, he braced himself for the first jump when he heard footsteps echoing on the stairs. Since it was only one pair of feet, teenagers or whoever else would come into the creepy building could be excluded as none of them were crazy enough to go in by themselves, meaning it could only be one person. His eyes widened and he began to back up into the room on his right. 'No, no, no!' his mind screamed. 'Not now! He can't be back now! I was so close! So close...'

Danny pressed himself against the inside wall of the room, trying to blend in with the shadows and praying he wouldn't seen. All the hopes of escape he had been harbouring were slowly disappearing with every footstep.


End file.
